


Mission: Sosolovsk

by TheHirsch



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, hostile babushkas, their relationship is heavily implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:08:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29353248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHirsch/pseuds/TheHirsch
Summary: Solo barely makes it out of the underground base when it is lit aflame. He beliefs he has lost Illya and tries to get by on his own...
Relationships: Illya Kuryakin & Napoleon Solo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Mission: Sosolovsk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daniel_404](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daniel_404/gifts).



> I wrote this in November (I believe) last year for my dear friend, under his supervisioin. We had a lot of fun with this! I might have been carried away by the aesthetics...  
> Also my first ever Uncle fic I published. Also watch me discover how to use POV to my advantage :P

Napoleon bent over, trying to catch his breath. He felt the heat of fire on his back and the cold of the monday morning on his chest.  
Flames were shooting out of the tunnel’s mouth behind him, the fire roared. The bushes around had caught on fire and now the flames were climbing up the hill above. The brisk October breeze drove the flames to find more fuel.  
He scanned the narrow road with his eyes, Illya and the others were nowhere to be seen. The American swore. He looked left and right and then quickly walked over the road. He had to get away from here. It was just a matter of time until someone would spot the fire and people would come looking.  
Most of the small town of Sosolovsk was resting on the hill on the opposite side of the valley, the factories and a railroad line at its feet.  
Napoleon assumed Illya had made his way out way earlier along with the others, he had to lay low and be patient.  
Once again, he checked if anyone was around before he made his way across a small strip of grass and climbed over a fence. He did not exactly look like someone who worked here but once he was on the main road he could blend in more easily.  
He was not sure what time it was but he hoped nobody was outside right now. He took big steps but didn’t run as he made his way towards the other side of the compound. Only suspicious people ran.  
The space between the buildings was barely big enough for a truck to fit through and there was nowhere to hide or take cover.  
Thankfully, he didn’t get caught just yet. But he almost got hit by a train when he made his way across a number of rials. It was going full speed and he was nervous. He cursed Illya for leaving him behind.He stood there, the train rushing past him, dangerously close and it appeared insanely long. Once the train had passed, Napoleon started running. And he didn’t stop until he had made his way across the rails, through the underpass and a few meters up the hill. 

***

Unlike in Napoleon’s imagination Illya’s escape from the fire had been an extremely close call. So close his coat had been seared and he had burnt his hands on the hatch though which he had escaped. Now he was standing somewhere in the woods between high-grown dense evergreen trees which didn’t allow much of the morning sun to come through. The terrain was steep and Illya was pretty sure he was above the main entrance to the base.  
“Please don’t be dead, cowboy,” he said quietly when he tried to orient himself by what looked like buildings lit by the rising sun, which he could see faintly through the trees. He was looking west. Illya could also see flames down-hill and they climbed towards him. He swore in his mother-tongue.  
He started running, not downhill but south hoping he could make his way around the fire.  
Unlike his western colleague Illya actually walked around the factories and via the proper street, he was not in the mood for any climbing or any reckless actions. It would take him longer to get into the town but he was not in a hurry. I had time to find a shop where he would politely ask to use a phone. 

***

Meanwhile Napoleon was roaming the living area, hoping to find something useful or come up with an actual plan. The tight roadways around the buildings were paved with concrete panels. The settlement had been constructed in the typical modular built with buildings surrounding little squares of greenery. Everything looked the same to his tired eyes.  
Suddenly he heard someone yelling, he looked around and saw a squad of elderly women sitting in a conversation pit underneath the trees, not far from him.  
“Young man!” the same voice rang out once again.  
Napoleon took a few seconds to realise they were addressing him. He stopped walking and looked at them.  
“Who the fuck are you and why is there a fire young man?” the woman said, her bright blue headscarf stood out from the group..  
They already knew, great, he thought. One of them must have seen the fire from their east-wards-facing balcony and told the others.  
“Yes. I have never seen you around here, young man,” another woman chimed in, she was wearing a worn out leather jacket and a beige headscarf with a floral print. The rest of the gang nodded in approval.  
Napoleon stepped from one foot on the other, knowing as soon as he opened his mouth they would know he was not Russian.  
“The lad is tongue-tied,” a woman with a dark red and purple patterned head scarf commented.  
Napoleon looked left and right before he started to walk away. Seconds later he felt a blunt pain in the back of his head, he turned around when another shoe hit his head. And another, this one had a lot of power behind it and almost knocked him off his feet. -- Hostile babushkas was the last thing he had expected from this town, his mistake.  
One moment later he saw the gang stand over him, their walking sticks and umbrellas raised, ready to strike. Napoleon didn’t even consider fighting back, who would beat up an elderly woman.  
He raised his hands and mumbled “I’m sorry.”  
“What was that, son?”  
He didn’t reply.  
“I said he got to be a western spy. He even smells like fire.”  
Napoleon closed his eyes, expecting to get hit once again.  
But nothing happened. Carefully he opened his eyes. Most of the babushkas were not looking at him anymore.  
He could hear a man talk calmly in Russian, it was Illya. Both his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, he had stopped about five meters from Napoleon.  
Illya convinced the women to let him go,

***

“I cannot believe just leaving you out of sight for half an hour would get you into this much trouble. You are a terrible spy.” Illya was pacing up and down.  
“I thought you had left me behind…”  
“And I thought you had fucking burnt.”  
The two stared at each other for a few seconds.  
Napoleon sighed and got up. “Thanks for your help. Oh my god, look at your hands.”  
“It’s nothing.” Illya pulled them out of sight.  
“it’s? Nothing? Then let me take a look.” Napoleon raised his eyebrows.  
“I’m fine.” Illya sighed and extended his hands, palms facing upwards. His palms were red and blistered, some parts being black others white, injured where he had grabbexd that latch. It was safe to say he was in pain because of it.  
“This needs to be treated,” Napoleon said. “I will go to the pharmacy. This is serious.”  
“I am fine,” Illya repeated. Not more convincingly. His hands were shaking and it was impossible for him to hide.  
“I get it,” Napoleon said softly. “But we need your hands at least semi-functional if we want to get out of this town.”  
“I think the only thing we have to fear is local police right now.”  
“... and angry babushkas.”  
An almost-smile crossed Illya’s lips as he remembered the scene from earlier.  
Napoleon didn’t smile back, he was still in battle-mode. “I will hurry. Wait here.”  
Illya grumbled something in response and watched how Napoleon disappeared around a corner.  
To his advantage no other customers were in the pharmacy when Napoleon entered. The young pharmacist was reading a book behind the counter and didn’t even look up when Napoleon entered. Thankfully, stealing was one of Napoleon’s skills, he kept a low profile, looking around.  
A bit later he returned to Illya with the medical supplies they needed and some gematogen bars.  
“Let’s find a place to sit down at,” Napoleon said in a lowered voice, only realising now that two men speaking English in the street was not exactly a smart thing to do. (big brain time)  
“Do you have a plan, cowboy?” Illya asked when they made their way down the street.  
“Yes, I do have a plan,” Napoleon lied. “We fix you up and then we find a way out of town, as I said earlier.”  
“And how exactly do you want to get out of town?”  
“I’ll explain later.” Napoleon said, while trying to make an important face.  
“Sure,” Illya said, trying not to roll his eyes. He knew Napoleon long enough to know he had no plan at all.  
Down the road the two sat down on a bench. Illya did not say a word when Napoleon started to clean and bandage his hands. Still trying to not show how much it hurt.  
After Napoleon was done they sat there for a while, slowly eating their protein bars.  
"I… Uh… have to say. I'm really glad you aren't dead.” Illya broke the silence.  
"And me…” Napoleon replied. "And not just because I would be very lost without you.” He really hoped they weren't in public at this moment.  
Illya looked at his partner, his face as serious as usually. “Don't worry, we got this Cowboy. We've been through worse and we won't let this horseshit slow us down.”  
Napoleon appeared to be thinking. “We need to contact Waverly. So we need to talk someone into letting us use their phone.”  
“I would however always beat their stuff up and threaten their life.”  
Napoleon looked at his partner in disbelief. “You do realise this is not Western Europe right and not the US. People won’t be afraid just because you yell at them with a Russian accent.”  
Illya frowned, looking angry for a moment. “You’re right angry people are very normal.”  
Napoleon was not sure if this had been his attempt at being funny and didn’t dare to laugh.  
"Look over there,” Illya said all of a sudden and slowly pointed across the park. A young woman was walking with a child on her hand.  
"You want to threaten her to into letting us use her phone?"  
"No? I will ask her kindly.”  
Illya got up and Napoleon had no choice but to follow.  
Napoleon followed his partner across the lawn to the woman.  
"We were doing research for our doctorate in the nearby forest. But we accidentally got caught up by that nasty fire and cant get in touch with our group and he’s an idiot who doesn’t even speak Russian”  
Napoleon knew enough Russian to understand and trouble keeping his pokerface. The woman was surprisingly trusting.


End file.
